Equus

From the first chant to the final blackout, every beat of Equus pulses with a raw, prickling intensity. Expertly cast, and performed at a clip that leaves you wondering where the 3 hours went, this powerful take on pain, religion, and sanity demands attention. 

For those that don't know the story, Equus centers around a heartbreaking crime, the blinding of six horses, by the local stable hire. Brought to see Dr. Dysart  by the local authority in hopes that the good doctor can help him, the troubled teenager, Alan Strang, powerfully played by Kevin Fanshaw, sulks, stares, and sings his way through the initial meetings. Over time, as trust between patient and doctor grows, we learn more and more about Alan's past and his home life, marching us closer to the answer as to why a boy who so revered horses would attack them with such malice. 

In parallel to Alan's revelations, we learn of Dr. Dysart's increasing malaise towards his role. Burdened by the thought that in "curing" Alan he will essentially rob him of his purest joys, Dysart struggles to reconcile the job he's meant to do and the passion he begrudgingly envies in Alan. As the boy's story of lust and worship builds to a crescendo, Dysart's fascination with his beloved Greek antiquities begins to pale and crack in comparison. Dysart is played with astonishing skill by Charles Numrich, who deftly embodies a man empowered with both the ability to remove his patient's greatest source of pain and the knowledge that gifting Alan with "normalcy" will leave his life lacking. Frequently referring to the sacredness of Alan's pain, the sacredness of each person's pain, we begin to question whether the doctor's years of treating the most damaged of children has sparked in him a near worship of the damage. 

A bare stage is the perfect setting for exploring Alan's mother's near-lustful religiosity and his father's atheism, the foundation of Alan's trauma. Pale, tempered wood, not dissimilar from what you would find in a stable, houses every scene. Just as Alan's world is consumed by the horses, the audience experiences his fragility and passion in the context of a barn. Made famous for its nudity, this production reaches its climax when Alan and his almost-lover, Jill, strip in the stable, and Alan's reverence for his horse god causes a mental and emotional break that culminates in his crime. The choreography of that crime and the use of light to focus on that violence are expertly done, reinforcing at the play's near end that this is not a simple, impassioned moment of weakness, but a visceral, soul-tearing act of violence that shatters a boy and his already fragile family. 

This is a brilliantly done piece of work, and a thrilling introduction for me to the Theatre Coup d'Etat company. Make the time to experience this play and support this group of artists.  Playing November 6-23, Friday-Monday at 7:30. The small theater was packed for our viewing, so reserve your tickets early. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Minnesota Opera: Ariadne auf Naxos

Opera is frequently an exercise in hyperbole. The grand sweep from one emotion to another, the tragedy of love lost, the joy of love reborn, it can all become a bit exhausting and disjointed from reality. The best operas that I've seen have done one of two things, they've used that melodrama to heighten the purest of our emotions, or they've flipped the melodrama on itself, highlighting the common understanding that while not all emotions explode with operatic passion, we can all relate to the very human tendency to exaggerate, well, everything.  Ariadne does the latter. The opera itself, the play within a play, teases the audience with the ridiculousness of its self-importance, allowing for an overzealous composer and a haughty (with a voice to say, "and I deserve to be haughty") diva to provide numerous laughs at the expense of The Opera. 

I didn't expect to giggle as much as I did, which is to say, I don't think I expected to giggle at all at an opera. But the comedy of self-aggrandizing  and forced humility never gets old, we all love to see a diva teased. Running a fast-paced 2 hours and 40 minutes (including one intermission), Ariadne manages to surprise us not only with commedia dell arte silliness and routine snark directed at opera's superiority complex, but with a warmth that makes the teasing feel less cruel, and more the type of ribbing a sibling gives another. 

Commedia: Hey Opera, get over yourself. Life isn't THAT serious. Lighten up!

Opera: Hmph. 

Commedia: Cry a little, fine. But let's crack a smile occasionally.

Opera: Hmph. (Opera cracks a very tiny smile.)

Commedia: (winky face)

The vocal talent, as always, is astonishing.  Ariadne and her comedic foil, Zerbinetta, are equals in inhabiting a character with the voice it needs.  Ariadne's deep, creamy, powerhouse of tone expertly underscores the depth of Ariadne's importance onstage and off. She's a star, her voice the perfect showcase for why opera demands applause, and more applause, and more applause, please. Where Ariadne exudes depth and gravitas, Zerbinetta lightens the mood with wit and a shimmering soprano that seems capable of brightening the darkest rafters. Deepening the connection between these two characters, Zerbinetta is the one who highlights how much her comedic persona shares with the tragic Ariadne.  Just as Ariadne is trapped and heartbroken on her deserted island, so Zerbinetta finds herself frequently isolated and confused in a throng of suitors. The physical facts matter little, the heartache in each voice can sound strikingly similar. And therein lies the sisterhood of two warring forms of art.  

Ariadne auf Naxos is sung in German with English subtitles and, due to its easily understood plot, fast pace, and comedic lift, would be an excellent first opera for anyone on the fence as to whether the art form strikes their fancy. It's a beautiful, emotional, frequently funny less-than-3-hours of entertainment, and it would be a shame to miss out on these artistic fireworks (winky face).

Ariadne is showing at the Ordway 1st, 3rd, and 4th.  Get your tickets at www.mnopera.org. And follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite. 

Throwback BNW: Junk From Our Trunk

Having seen several of Brave New Workshop's shows over the last year or so, I was excited to experience some throwback hilarity. There were definitely several scenes I'd never seen before, and the ones I'd seen before were true gems. 

While I laughed often and still believe BNW is one of the best bets for local entertainment, I was hoping for more "throwback" in the Throwback show, more snippets I hadn't seen before. That said, a couple scenes I could watch every night and still crack up (Edina Innuendo, looking at you). If you haven't been to BNW before or it has been awhile (and your sensitivity to offense is low), you'll love this show. 

Stage Kiss

The play within a play is a classic trope. There's no quicker way to shine a spotlight on both an audience's expectations and the complication of Actors as Actual People. Sarah Ruhl's Stage Kiss, playing through August at the Guthrie, takes that theatrical construct and expertly uses it to highlight the worlds we build inside our heads, the relationships we paint in rose-colored tints.

He and She are once-lovers who stumble upon one another years later as costars in a decidedly awful play. The clumsy dialogue allows for 200+ stage kisses, each one opening teenage wounds and reawakening teenage desires. They find themselves falling in love again, "for a time," ignoring the concerns that drove them apart in favor of the thrill of rekindled romance.  The complication of a current husband, a current Nice Iowa Girlfriend, and the realization that they are still the same people that fell out of love years before, only slowly begin to unravel the daydream.

Peppered with laughter throughout, Ruhl showcases the self-consciousness of acting as much as the intense feelings tied to that first true love. From her first entry onstage, Stacia Rice's She bumbles and questions and worries over every word that slips from her mouth, every gesture, every direction. Losing that self-conscious patter only in her most relaxed moments with her lover and, eventually, her husband, She shines a light on that desperate search for a companion who lets you sink into yourself. As her love affair with He unravels and she finds herself craving the comfort of home and Husband, the lovers find themselves within another too-bad-to-be-real play. The stage once again provides the perfect environment for over-analysis and over-exposure of what was, really, a mistake.

Equal parts hilarious and touching, Ruhl's characters are expertly performed by a small but superb cast. Ruhl's hiccups of fantasy, plays on lighting and emotion, are brought to life by lovely staging and lighting, not an easy task considering the fluidity of reality and theatricality throughout the show.  A quick-paced show that feels shorter than its two hours (plus intermission), this is well worth braving the construction downtown.

Stage Kiss plays on the McGuire Proscenium at the Guthrie through August 30th. Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite.

Revival

As most are aware, I'm not a native Minnesotan. While I lost the majority of my accent years ago (give or take a few Southernisms that won't die), my soft spot for Southern cooking has only deepened this far North of my birth state of Arkansas. Both sides of my family are Southern-based, Arkansas and Texas firmly represented on my Mother's side, and Tennessee and the Carolinas gracing my Dad's.

We weren't a fried chicken family. I didn't grow up with Sunday suppers of the bird. But I've been eating pimento cheese since childhood and I've eaten hoppin' john nearly every New Years Day of my life for good luck. A jar of chow chow is bought as soon as we land in Tennessee, and I even made a bastardized version of it this winter when my Uncle Buck visited and requested the condiment (no, Uncle Buck, they do not have chow chow in Minnesota).

All this to be said, I've been waiting for the Revival opening with equal parts excitement and anxiety. My attachment to the sides is more acute than to the main attraction, Everybody loves fried chicken. And everybody has expectations when they eat fried chicken. But only a Southerner has expectations (a lifetime of dipping tortilla chips into Ruth's pimento cheese) when it comes to the sides.

The pimento cheese and meat plate is a sizable sharing portion for $13. We could have easily shared it with a table of 4, instead I was thrilled to bring home a serving or two, which I will not share with anyone. My night was made when I saw the small heap of chow chow beside the pickles. A sweet, vinegary condiment of shredded cabbage and celery seed (or maybe it was caraway seed in this version?), a bit of that bite perfectly pairs with the rich, creamy goodness of classic pimento cheese.  And the pimento cheese. Y'all, there's nothing fancified about this pile of glorious goop. I was worried that the Revival version would pale in comparison to my own recipe. But honestly, I believe I have to admit defeat on this one. I could have happily made a meal of the cheese and chow chow, and I'm sure at some point, I probably will. Pimento cheese is rich and needs a bit of tang, so the pickles and chow chow and a dash of pepper vinegar made for many perfect bites. The andouille addition was nice for snacking, but the pimento cheese is the star. The meat felt a bit superfluous, but maybe I have friends who love andouille and want to focus on that, leaving the pimento cheese to me. That could be the basis for a great friendship.

Revival offers three fried chicken varieties, classic Southern, Tennessee Hot, and gluten free, along with several traditional Southern dishes. The low country chicken bog with clams and sausage would have called to me on a wintery night, I'm sure. I always pick whatever is labeled as spicy, so the Tennessee Hot fried chicken was my choice. Offering a welcome kick to crunchy, perfectly moist  chicken, it'll be tough for me to ever order anything other than that gem. Along with the chicken, I ordered sides of collards and hoppin john.  Both of the sides were great, with a slight edge given to the collards because the combination of collards and the delicious Revival hot sauce was simply delicious. We split an order of perfect biscuits, all fluff and butter, with a tin of sorghum butter to further gild the lily. The sides run $4-$6 and the 2 piece chicken is only $7.50.  Split a 1/2 bird (five pieces) for only $15.  I'd be tempted to get a half bird, or even a full, next time, for the sake of leftovers.

The Revival space, housed in the former Corner Table home, is bright and unfussy. Despite recent Twitter stories of a line out the door, we arrived at 6 pm on Tuesday and were able to sit immediately. It was a packed, lively space, but not too noisy to still have a conversation. With that kind of crowd on a week night, I'm sure a table on a weekend evening requires a longer wait (no reservations, and they insist on a full party before seating guests). But if you're hoping to pop in and experience this delicious new addition, a weeknight would be an easy bet, especially if you're comfy eating at the bar.

As a frequent visitor to Corner Table, I had high hopes and expectations attached to Revival. I'm thrilled to know that every bite of this place is a gift to we Southern transplants. 

Carmen

Carmen was the first opera I went to, a beautiful, intimate production at Theatre de la Jeune Lune.  Like most people, especially the opera novices like myself, Carmen is accessible in part because so much of the music is recognizable. One forgets how deeply Bizet's melodies have woven their way into everyday life, each spicy, sensual vocal or orchestral dance bringing a smile of recognition.

That immediate recognition must make Carmen equal parts exhilarating and exasperating to direct and envision. The Minnesota Opera takes a classic and runs with it, embracing the heat and flash of the 1970s and delivering Carmen's sultry take on doomed love with the gusto it deserves. Sung in French with English subtitles, the three hour show moves at a robust pace. There were no yawning lulls, as even Micaela's heartache moves at a quick clip. Carmen's steady march toward destruction is made all the more dramatic by stunning visuals courtesy of top notch lighting and a beautiful play of shadows and light.

Performances are astounding. My only sadness was that Micaela was a bit dowdy. I prefer a brighter contrast to Carmen, not so much a housewife vs. a harlot, but an angel vs. a demon. But vocally these two women are a perfect foil, Micaela's soaring, pristine soprano offering a ladylike, almost regal, contrast to Carmen's mezzo-soprano sensuality and darkness. Don Jose is properly torn between this darkness and light, and the tenor perfectly imbues that struggle with the crazed passion it requires. Thankfully, he removes his sweater vest before closing in on his beloved, as I can't quite believe a murderer in a sweater vest.

Sweater vests are only the beginning of a costume parade that includes roller skates, fringed leather, and a pair of satin pants that makes Toreador as much a thrill to watch as to hear. This is a lush, sexy world and every inch of the stage seems to pulse with that sensual energy. Embrace a bit of tragic yearning and don't miss Carmen at Minnesota Opera, playing through May 10th.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Anne of Green Gables

There are few books as dear to me as Anne of Green Gables. As a redhead, the Lucy Maud Montgomery series was very much a rite of passage. That level of affection always makes me a bit cautious in experiencing an adaptation, as no staging can improve upon what lives in one's head.

Happily, the Anne currently inhabiting Theatre in the Round is a warm, welcome rendition of the classic. The Sylvia Ashby adaptation captures Anne's specific capacity for joy and moves her story along at a well-paced clip. Although the show runs a long-ish 2 and a half hours (with intermission), it still manages to feel light, Anne's precocious childhood errors ("it's harder to be good when you have red hair") carrying the audience from childhood to adulthood. The first act enjoys the majority of the laughs, but Anne's quips provide ample humor throughout the show.

Anne is played by Mabel Thomas, a sophomore at Edina High School, and Thomas embodies the timeless heroine very well. There's a cadence to her delivery that reminds me of Megan Follows's miniseries version, and that's a pretty noble comparison. Thomas is quick and bubbly as childhood Anne, and grows more serene and thoughtful as Anne the Adult. It's a credit to Thomas that the evolution of Anne feels natural, childhood melodrama lending itself sweetly to adult enthusiasm.

Jane Hammill's Marilla is a stern, but eventually soft-hearted, foil to Anne's "featherbrained" imagination.  And Hammill, Thomas, and Rod Kleiss, playing the soft-spoken Matthew, have a loving chemistry that honors the Montgomery classic. Rounding out the supporting cast are Dani Pazurek, as Anne's "bosom friend," Diana, and Holly Windle, as the busybody Rachel Lynde. Together they provide just enough support and drama to carry our heroine through those difficult hair-dying years and into adult success at Queens College. Gilbert Blythe, who all Anne-lovers know is destined to whisk "Carrots" off her feet, plays a small but sweet role throughout, and Sean Gilbertson does a fine job playing the playful and persistent suitor.

This is a loving, often humorous staging of a beloved story, and Anne-girls (and their Gilbert Blythes) of all ages will enjoy it.  The show runs through April 12th so make sure you reserve seats for an upcoming weekend.

Follow me on twitter @TheMinneapolite

The Drawer Boy

I get to Theatre in the Round infrequently, but that isn't for lack of interest in their book of shows. I was happy to have a free Sunday afternoon for a matinee showing of their current show, The Drawer Boy, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the production.

The Canadian play is one of the most frequently produced plays of the last decade, having garnered critical acclaim not only for its native production but for multiple translations abroad. It's easy to see the allure as the story is heartfelt, the characters interesting.

Set in Ontario in the early 70s, the relationship between farmers, Morgan and Angus, unfolds gently at the coaxing of their guest, Miles, a traveling actor working on a new play. Morgan's protective, gruff demeanor is balanced with easy teasing of the young actor, who seems a bit too naive when talked into silly farmhand chores like polishing gravel. And Angus's befuddled earnestness bounces from Morgan to Miles, carrying with it questions of how Angus came to be Angus, and why Morgan cares so much.

The real star of the play is that story, told by Morgan of his life with Angus, a dear, damaged friend. While the story itself is intriguing, at times the friendship between these men feels forced, even weak. Perhaps that's a natural weakness, borne of years of caretaking, and more a tale of exhaustion than failed feeling.  But sometimes the chemistry between the friends falters, and that slows the pace of a pretty quick-moving script.

Hiccups aside, the play is worth a peek for the story alone. Clocking in at under two hours, with intermission, it's a warm dose of friendship on a chilly evening. Only one weekend remains, so check out next weekend's final shows and don't forget the discounts available for seniors and students on Fridays and Sundays.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite or email me at TheMinneapolite@gmail.com.

Pippin

My impression of Pippin before last night was largely formed by having viewed several high school variations.  High school theater teachers can't get enough of Bob Fosse, and that's perfectly okay. While I knew the musical had been revived to wide acclaim, I hadn't done much research on the reborn version, so I was surprised (stunned?) by the athletic, exuberant show currently enjoying a short run at the Orpheum. 

The choreography is still Bob Fosse-inspired, hallelujah, and even the aerial acrobatics have that languid-but-somehow-sharp pop of movement with each beat. The audience oohed and aahed at multiple feats of athleticism throughout the night and I will admit that I may have lifted more weights at the gym today as a result of seeing that many handstands and back flips.

A powerful Sasha Allen (of The Voice fame) takes the stage first as the Leading Player and her remarkable vocals carry the audience from scene to scene. I never watched The Voice, but holy crap can Sasha sing. She adds a certain Beyonce swagger to the role, not in imitation of that other singer, the Leading Player is solidly Allen's own, but that's the best comparison I can think of for a similar impression of both skill and confidence. She's Pippin's greatest champion and, in the end, a temptress, and Allen nails every aspect of that balancing act.

Pippin himself, played by Sam Lips, who played the title role on Broadway, is equal parts handsome, troubled, and awkward, often playing up his confusion and maladroit approach to every obstacle to the audience's delight. There were times I wished for a deeper, more powerful sound from him.  But overall he captured Pippin's plight with ease.

An absolutely stunning supporting cast make Pippin and the Leading Player's storytelling all the more fun to watch. Not only does the choreography move the audience along at a pace that feels far faster than it is, the actors carry that pace with enthusiasm. To almost standing-ovation-in-the-middle-of-the-show applause, Priscilla Lopez wows with a sassy, funny, touching, and ridiculously athletic performance of "No Time at All."  Similarly impressive is John Rubinstein, as Charles, who originated the Pippin role in 1972. Rubinstein is quick on his feet and quicker with his tongue, inspiring some of the biggest laughs of the night.

Rounding out the cast are stellar performances by Kristine Reese as Catherine and Sabrina Harper as Fastrada, each with soaring vocals and perfectly honed comedic and dramatic timing. Both get their share of laughs and Reese pulls at the heartstrings well as the love interest that throws Pippin's grand plans into turmoil.

A fantastic company of singers and circus professionals rounds out the stage and every tumble, leap, and hula hoop is perfectly placed. A joy to watch, Pippin is powerfully sung and beautifully choreographed, with a coming-of-age story that doesn't seem to age.

Playing through Sunday, Feb 22nd, you can buy your tickets at the Hennepin Theatre Trust website here.  Don't forget to take advantage of the ticket discounts for teachers, students, and military.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Sassy Spoon

I've been looking forward to the Sassy Spoon opening for months!  I frequented the food truck at various festivals over the past year and had a mild addiction to their wild rice salad. Add to my enthusiasm that their new spot in East Nokomis is walking distance from my house!

The restaurant took over the former 3 Tiers space, and the bright, colorful interior is a perfect match for flavorful entrees and a warm, family-friendly atmosphere. A selection of ciders, mead, and wine are available for purchase and a range of small plate appetizers start off the menu.  The entree list is short but provides a great range of proteins and flavors. The spiced beef and collards pictured below was delicious and the meat was perfectly cooked, juicy with small pieces of charred crispiness. My friends tucked into plates of pulled pork and chicken curry and every mouth was happy.

We sat and chatted in the cozy space for awhile, and it was easy to picture many future lunches and suppers at my new neighborhood spot. Welcome to the 'hood, Sassy!

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite!

I Love Lucy

I did not grow up watching the famous redheaded comedienne. She was even before my parents' prime TV-watching time given the original series aired in the 50s. I caught reruns on Nick at Night but I don't know that I every watched a full episode, the comedy was always a bit by-gone for me, of a different era.

All that being said, the Lucy and Dezi shtick is as familiar to me as a bologna sandwich.  Maybe all Americans born after it aired are genetically altered, implanted with some Lucy-appreciating gene that immediately recognizes and embraces the slapstick mischief.  The era may be well passed, but there's still a bit of magic and hilarity in Ricky's "you've got some 'splainin' to do!"

"I Love Lucy" Live on Stage doesn't just recreate a couple beloved episodes (episodes I never saw but the audience made it clear these were fondly remembered), it attempts to recreate the novelty of being a live studio audience for the comedy.  The two Lucy episodes are interspersed with of-the-moment re-enacted commercials (Brylcream, anyone?) complete with jingles some members of the audience clearly recognized. While these asides were enjoyable, they were clearly most appreciated by those who remember watching the show in its heyday. There were laughs of recognition throughout the show.

The strongest member of the ensemble was a spot-on Ricky Ricardo.  From his first greeting of the audience, to his hip-swiveling crooning, he was a fun, energetic, honey-voiced interpretation of Lucy's other half.  Lucy herself was also strong, nailing many of Lucy's trademark pouts and grimaces, as well as her penchant for physical comedy and off-key singing. As must be the case in a show based on the episodes, the duo had sweet chemistry, even in the midst of a somewhat limited script. 

The strength of the show is in the retelling of the episodes, momentum gets a bit muddled in the snippets between the shows and in a frequent song-and-dance aside by a talented, but somewhat misplaced, chorus.  If you're looking for a quick show (only 90 minutes, no intermission) that will have you back at home before 10, this could be the one for you.  I'd recommend it even more fervently for anyone who dearly loved the show in its heyday. Bring your mom or grandma, and buy her an I Love Lucy coffee mug for the road (the swag is cute). 

I Love Lucy is playing at the State Theater through January 25th. Don't forget to take advantage of Hennepin Theater Trust's rush tickets available for students, military, and teachers! 

Good Turn Coffee

I'm one of those people who can't fully function in the morning without a solid cup of coffee. And I come from a long line of those people.  I don't believe my Grandmother's house has ever been without a hot pot of coffee.  And when I walk into my folks' house on a weekend, I never have to ask if my dad will join me in a cup. The answer is always yes.

I've been following Good Turn Coffee on Twitter for awhile and as I recently invested in a coffee grinder, it seemed like time to try a pound.  It was just in time for a visit from my family over New Year's so I knew I'd have a tribe of coffee lovers to try the Full City Roast.  We finished off two 12 cup pots between the five of us over the course of brunch, so really, is there higher praise for a coffee?

I'm polishing off the pound this weekend and, cup in hand, decided it was time to tell the rest of Minneapolis/St. Paul to buy themselves a pound (or four).  The owner, Chris, wrote this blog post when he began the business and despite his obvious nerves in kicking things off, he has a great product! And to add to the good vibes inherent in a great cup of coffee, Good Turn passes on the warm fuzzies by donating a portion of profits to local youth leadership initiatives.  So far, the Boy Scouts have been a recipient of those feel good funds, and Chris hopes to expand donations to other local groups such as Teen Challenge as his business grows. Help him spread the love and get yourself a great cup of coffee by sending Chris an order at paypal@goodturncoffee.com. Also give Good Turn a follow on Twitter (@GoodTurnCoffee) for updates on when and what Chris is roasting.

Follow me in all my well-caffeinated glory @TheMinneapolite.